


Seven Minutes

by jellybeanforest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexuality, Bullying, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Peer Pressure, Popular Tony Stark, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Remix, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Steve Rogers is a Surprisingly Good Kisser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22725160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest
Summary: When Bonnie refuses her turn in the closet with a shrimpy Steve Rogers during a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, popular lothario-in-training/class whore Tony Stark gladly takes her turn.Remix of “Seven Minutes in Heaven” by Politzania. For the 2020 Cap-IronMan Remix Madness.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 51
Kudos: 526
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Madness





	Seven Minutes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Politzania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Seven Minutes in Heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170090) by [Politzania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Politzania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania) in the [2020_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2020_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness) collection. 



> Bonnie is the woman Bucky tries to set Steve up with at the beginning of Captain America: The First Avenger.

“Come on, Bonnie, your name came up. You drew the _short_ straw, so you have to go in,” Brock Rumlow, the host of the party, tells the blonde sophomore, barely containing his laughter. “Your prince awaits.”

“I think I’m coming down with something,” she coughs, pounding her chest lightly to exaggerate her symptoms. “Woke up with a frog in my throat, and… you’ve seen him, right? He looks like he’d fall over in a stiff breeze. What if he catches what I have? I’m not gonna be responsible for the death of an invalid.”

“You’re being dramatic. No one says you have to kiss him. You can talk about the weather for all we care,” Brock tries to push her subtly towards the closet door. “You just have to sit in his company for seven minutes. Alone.”

But Bonnie digs her heels into the carpet and doesn’t budge. “You know what they’ll say. Bonnie Jeffers made out with _Steve Rogers_. I’ll never live it down.”

“So you want the official line to be that Bonnie Jeffers is too chickenshit to follow the rules of a simple game?”

“I’ll do it,” a voice, confident and sure, says from across the room. Bonnie and Brock turn to find Tony Stark (bisexual class whore extraordinaire) ambling over, thumbs hooked into the loops of his designer jeans. He shrugs. “Seven minutes? No sweat.”

Bonnie looks relieved. “Thanks Stark. I owe you one.”

Tony nods, then slips into the closet as the Mean Girls™ (led by Brock and Jack Rollins) chuckle in the background. He ignores them, settling down in front of a blindfolded Steve Rogers. He listens for the click of the lock before reaching over to pull up the other youth’s blindfold. “Surprise,” Tony deadpans, bracing himself for rejection.

However, instead of severe disappointment, the expression on Steve’s face is one of confusion. He simply cants his head to the side in consideration.

“Huh. I thought we were doing mixed couples. Did I draw from the hat of guys’ names instead?” Steve had been blindfolded at the time, and Brock is a well-known asshole, so it wasn’t entirely outside the range of possibilities that the jerk was trying to prank him. It is probably his way of calling the scrawny junior ‘gay’ in the pejorative sense of the word, as if there was anything wrong with being attracted to the same sex (or both sexes for that matter).

Tony pushes Brock’s sleeveless jackets back – _God, did the guy have a vendetta against intact clothing?_ – and tosses a couple shoes haphazardly to the side to make more space for himself. His nose crinkles at the smell of Axe body spray wafting up from the disturbed wardrobe.

“I’m what you would call the understudy in this little production,” he confesses. When Steve’s thin shoulders slump in dejection, he rushes to add, “I volunteered for the position actually. But if you’re not into it, that’s okay, man. We can just talk for a bit.”

“So, who was it that bailed?”

“Bonnie Jeffers.”

“…Oh,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

Tony reaches over to place a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder. He squeezes it a bit to draw the guy’s attention. “Hey, I know it sucks right now, but… well, high school isn’t forever, you know? One day, you’ll be out in the real world, and… it gets better. I’m sure of it.” Pep talks have never been his forte, but Tony figures he didn’t do half-bad. He awkwardly pats Steve’s shoulder before withdrawing.

But Steve is still despondent. “It’s okay. I know what I look like. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. But I only need one, so…”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony says, before divulging, “You know, I really admired what you did last week.”

“You mean getting beat down by Schmidt and his Neo-Nazi goons until Bucky pulled them off me?”

“No, I mean standing up to the guy when he was picking on that freshman with the lisp.”

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve states firmly, iron in his tone.

Tony appreciates his moxie. “It took guts, major cojones, you know. I just thought it was cool. Real big dick energy, you know what I’m saying.”

“You’re probably the first person to ever call me cool.”

“Oh, you are, but… like in a way that most people don’t recognize because they’re too hung up on–” Tony pauses, not wanting to accidentally insult Steve’s stature, constitution, or general appearance. “Look, the key to being cool is not caring what anyone thinks of you. Be kind, but do what you want,” he advises instead.

“Not caring, huh?” Steve says skeptically. “The fact that you’re hot and drive an Audi and have more money than the entire GDP of several small nations… stuff like that doesn’t factor into your popularity at all?”

Tony smiles. “You think I’m hot?”

“Really? That’s what you got out of that?” Steve sounds a little exasperated but also inexplicably fond.

Tony shrugs. “Rare spark of optimism on my part. Don’t read too much into it,” he says, and perhaps it’s easier to tell the truth in the dark, because he continues, “Though I’d be lying if I said money doesn’t help with general popularity. However, it also makes it really hard to suss out who your real friends are – Don’t look at me like that; I can hear the disapproval in your face even if I can’t quite see it – I’m not complaining; I’m just explaining is all. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Bucky and Sam will always have your back. Hell, even Nat would step up for you, but me? I’m pretty sure Rhodey will never bail on me, but that’s about it.”

Steve is quiet, pensive. “…Why did you volunteer to come in here with me?”

“Because Brock was being a dick to Bonnie, and I could think of worse ways to pass seven minutes.”

“Ah, so talking to me just edged out water-boarding. Gotcha.”

Tony is about to protest, but he can see in the dim light filtering in from under the door that Steve is smirking. “You’re a punk. You know that, Steve Rogers.”

“Isn’t the first I’ve heard of it,” he admits.

Tony snorts then reaches over to undo the first three buttons of Steve’s shirt.

Steve freezes. “…What are you doing?” he says, his pitch gone high.

“You really want the others to think you’re cool? Trust me on this.”

* * *

When Brock swings open the door in triumph, the insult he had prepared for such an occasion dies on his lips. Steve’s hair is mussed, his shirt half-open and his eyes wide. But what really sells it is Tony Stark, rumpled and flabbergasted, his clothing similarly in disarray. He’s breathing heavily as he states, “Yeah no. We’re not done yet. I’m gonna need another seven minutes with this one.” He hooks a thumb over at Steve, who blushes but remains otherwise silent.

Brock sounds a touch strangled. “…Stark?”

But Tony has already lunged forward, his hand on the doorknob. “Don’t wait up,” he orders, as he slams the door shut and waits for the telltale click of the lock.

In the quiet of the closet, Tony starts to chuckle softly.

Steve whispers, “You think they bought it?”

“Pfft. Hell yeah. After that performance, they’ll be lining up to get a piece of you,” he bats Steve’s shoulder in easy camaraderie. “You’ll see.”

“You think?” Steve asks, but now he has other worries. “What if… what if I try to kiss someone, and I’m not any good at it? I don’t know what to do. I’ve never… People will know we lied.”

“Hold up. You’ve never been kissed?” Tony says in obvious disbelief. “Like… ever?”

“…Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

But Steve shakes his head. “A pity first kiss is worse.”

“Pity nothing. I wasn’t lying when I said I thought you were cool, Steve,” Tony says suggestively. “I wouldn’t say no to one of the bravest people at school.”

“…Okay,” Steve agrees as Tony leans in, his lips lightly parted.

* * *

After another seven minutes have passed, Brock unlocks the door and (with great reservation) carefully opens it to reveal a rather surprising scene. Steve is straddling the other youth’s lap, having pinned Stark’s wrists to the wall and practically looming over him. Despite his relatively diminutive size, shrimpy Steve Rogers has clearly taken the lead of this little encounter, pressing his lips hungrily to Stark’s as he grinds his groin against the larger youth’s bare stomach.

No one is laughing now. Brock looks like he might want to die a little at the prospect of having to disinfect his entire closet.

Steve looks over his shoulder, blinking against the sudden light. “You mind?”

Tony is more than a little flustered, his cheeks red, lips plump and shiny, and eyes wild, large and dilated.

“…If you’re gonna hog the closet, take it somewhere else,” Brock finally says.

“Yeah! You’re holding up the game,” Jack adds.

Steve slips off Tony, and Tony stands on shaky feet, pulling his discarded shirt over his head inside-out and shamelessly re-arranging his erection through his jeans. “Well if that’s the case…” Tony throws an arm over the thin blade of Steve’s shoulders. “What do you say, Steve? My place or yours?”

Steve blushes. “Um… my mom has an overnight shift.”

“And I have a late curfew,” he finishes, letting Steve go to collect his coat as Tony deals with the fallout of their make-out session.

Brock grits his teeth. “Stark, you can’t be serious.” First, the guy defiles all his belongings, and now he has the gall to leave his party early? For _Rogers_ of all people?

Tony shrugs, his mouth twisted into an enigmatic smile. “You weren’t in there. You haven’t experienced what he can do with his tongue. I mean Jesus Christ – who would have thought _Steve Rogers_ …” Tony runs a hand through his hair, ruffling the already unruly locks, his gaze distant and sex-stupid. “I’m pretty sure I heard the voice of God, and she told me to follow my bliss, so I’m gonna do just that.”

“You’re pulling one over on us,” Brock grumbles in disbelief.

“Look, believe what you want. Whatever helps you sleep at night, man, but while you’re here trapped in the closet, sitting awkwardly across from some poor girl who’s way out of your league, I’ll be getting me some more of whatever the fuck that was.” Tony pushes past him, stopping just in front of Steve. He rolls heel-to-toe in place. “You ready to go, honey?”

“Yeah, just about.”

“Okay, then let’s bounce,” Tony says. He pulls out his keys, wraps an arm around Steve, and together they walk out into the night without so much as a backward glance.


End file.
